OF ARACHNIDS AND HIEROGLYPHS
A gnarled armed armada
of out of work concubines
shouts obscenities
at a line of sad animals,
waiting for a ferry boat
that never arrives.
Sexual scorpions
are all over the place,
searching for a parade
of preferences.
They pull the trigger
of a Glock that fires into
an overhead black sun.
Hieroglyphs tell the story
of lascivious priests
releasing bees swarming
under mulberry trees.
Everyone is starving,
drinking rusty water,
and has nightmares
of waking up in a panic —
terrified tomorrow
may not be another day.
Under a panoply
of unending stars,
a select majestic few
discover the taboo
against knowing
who you are.